Exquisite Pain
by Feymist
Summary: Harry is at school for the Christmas Holidays, and finds that Draco is too. What will happen when they are confronted with each other, almost alone together at school? And now Draco is plotting to keep Harry. For good. HPDM, SLASH forewarning.
1. Addictions

Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. If it was, I would feel sorry for the readers and publishers.  
  
Author's Note: This fanfiction is going to be slash, and involves slashy stuff between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, so if it's not your style, don't read it, for goodness' sakes! May or may not involve, sadism, masochism, sado-masochism, drugs, sex, cutting, torture, blood, violence, etc. Merry reading!  
  
licorice wand:thank you for my one and only sad review, I took the advice, thanks!  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Harry glanced out of the clouded over window in the hallway adjoining the Gryffindor Common Room. The Christmas Holidays were playing themselves out like a slow black-and-white-film.  
  
His friends had both returned to their families for Christmas, and he found that the holidays had left the school even more deserted than usual. Only a handful of first-years had stayed, apart from him, and he did not particularly hold company with any of them. Well, insofar as he knew, anyway.  
  
Well, the second day of the Christmas holidays where buried in a delicate down of snow. Even inside, with warming spells, the air was chilly, making him walk perhaps a little faster than he would have to get to breakfast than on any other day. Upon entry, he saw that what people that remained at school had assembled at a single communal table to eat breakfast. He also noticed perfect blonde hair adorning an elegant blonde, dining in a most scrupulous manner. He sat farthest from the others, and closest to the door, and Harry.  
  
At first, Harry almost did not recognize Draco Malfoy from even his most distinct hair, as it hid much of his face and looked as if it had been washed recently. It had not yet had enough time to dry properly; making wet strands of hair trail down his neck to dampen the back of his cloak and shoulders.  
  
Harry absorbed this and regained his composure. Taking a seat over near the professors, but further from the first years (as they had a habit of watching his forehead with reverence), he began to eat.  
  
Draco gave a fleeting glance, just once, but made no comment, his eyes not lingering for even the barest moment too long, as if distantly noting and disregarding his presence with casualty.  
  
No nasty comments, wondered Harry, he seems to have lost his backbone - namely Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
A few moments later, Draco finished eating and quietly left the table. No one but Harry seemed to have noticed. Harry mentally shrugged to himself.  
  
The weather was exquisite, and he longed to take his Firebolt out, and test the weather. He quickly finished the remainder of his breakfast and collected his Firebolt.  
  
Outside the morning was as cold as he had predicted it would be and he reveled in the crisp cold air washing over him. Harry mounted his broom effortlessly, and in a mere moment he was lost in the skies, his hair blowing about his face, which was set in a grim determination.  
  
He felt as if he wanted to find something this morning. Find something in himself, or find shocking release. Something that logic defied, and could not be found.  
  
Somehow, in the freezing cold, snow and wind, he felt a strange conviction that if he went fast enough and far enough, something would happen.  
  
He flew for hours around the grounds, for hours upon hours, he even skirted the fringes of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
He was tired out, but felt oddly elated. He had not found his goal, but at least he had gained a temporary sense of freedom from the world, and his unusual longing had been momentarily sated.  
  
He was flying back to the school to land in for a snack if he could, as he had missed lunch. As he was about to take the last dive to the doors, he noticed a stark contrast against the roof.  
  
He decided to let his curiosity win over his stomach and landed on the roof. There he saw an abandoned Nimbus 2001. His throat constricted.  
  
He saw the beautiful, soft hair whipping around a pale face, the eyes staring straight into his own.  
  
Draco was like a deer in the headlights, but unafraid.  
  
Harry saw the knife, silver, hilt embossed with a labyrinthine design, tip touched with blood. Harry also saw what looked rather like a rose carved into Draco's forearm He saw the old, fading scars of what looked suspiciously like a question.  
  
"Hello." ~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
"Hello," greeted Draco Malfoy quietly, and mock innocence, "care to join me?"  
  
Harry made no move. Draco simply shrugged and began to lick the crimson droplets that dripped down his arm, purely and obviously for Harry's enjoyment. Harry stepped forward once in numb nausea, to stop him.  
  
The expanses of sky and snow seemed distant and the frosty weather seeping into his veins trivial.  
  
He heard Draco's laugh: rather like rich red wine, and saw the other boy's titillating smirk. He saw Draco spring up lightly and mount his Nimbus 2001. And in the seconds in which the shock wore off enough to allow him to register Draco's actions and begin to follow, Draco had already left. The only things that faced him were the snowy, wind-swept, grounds and the vast, cloudy, skies.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Harry managed a small meal, which he sneaked from the house elves, and wandered to the Gryffindor Common Room, rather distractedly. He wondered about what he had encountered, and why. Why would Draco, of all people, do something like that? To be sure, he could not even barely imagine Hermione or Ron doing that, but Draco seemed to have no reason at all.  
  
The armchair he was sitting on was large and comfortable, rather like a bed without sheets. The fireplace in front of him crackled merrily, casting of a soothing, warm glow onto his body, and there he drifted off, with the warm glow of the fireplace in his mind.  
  
He woke up that night to realise he might just make it to dinner if he ran. As he raced towards a hearty meal, he wondered if Draco would attend dinner. The hallways were cold, and looking outside a window as he went past, he saw the snowflakes drifting slowly down.  
  
It turned out that Draco was at dinner, but yet again Draco gave Harry no thought. With the barest flick of an eye, he was gone from Draco's mind. Harry decided to instead to concentrate on his dinner, picking at his food rather listlessly.  
  
He went to sleep that night wondering just how many times Draco cut himself, to be so cool about it? He thought for a long time that night, his closing thought being would he ever want to do that to himself?  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
A/N: also thanks tijuana@hotmail.com for the review! 


	2. Blood

Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. The lady who does own it seems be rich. I, am broke.  
  
Author's Note: This fanfiction is going to be slash, and involves slashy stuff between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, so if it's not your style, don't read it, for goodness' sakes! May or may not involve, sadism, masochism, sado-masochism, drugs, sex, cutting, torture, blood, violence, etc. Merry reading!  
  
kawaii kalika:thank you for your flattering review  
  
A/N: Sorry, I sort of stuffed the previous chapter, I will fix up the ending.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Harry yawned lightly when he awoke the next morning. Stretching his limbs slowly, he wallowed in the warmth of the place. Professor Flitwick must have increased the potency of the warming spells, he thought to himself, and began to sit up and rub his eyes.  
  
He was immediately hailed with a sense of disorientation, and after a few seconds of befuddlement, he realised that he must have somehow moved so much that night that he had spun himself right around. He wondered for a moment and realised his sheets were mostly all over the floor, as was his pillow. He chuckled loosely and was glad there was no one there but him.  
  
He had come to a final conclusion, that night, waking up at Pigwidgeon knew what hour, to realise it was all right with him. Draco, he meant. What was it his business what Draco did or did not do? His life.  
  
He smiled when he saw Hedwig tapping at the window. Hedwig had been sent off two days ago with mail to Ron. He untied two letters from Hedwig; one was from Ron and one from Hermione. The letters were mainly how great it was that as a Christmas surprise, their families had chosen to spend Christmas together. He stroked Hedwig's white feathers, and sat down to write replies, as there would be time for breakfast, it began in another half-hour.  
  
He made a note of Draco's unusual presence at school during the holidays, but no more. He also carefully worded his delight at them being able to spend their time together. He carefully worded out that he wished he were with them as well.  
  
He ignored Draco during Breakfast. He wryly noted Draco's tendency to do the same. An eye for an eye, he guessed.  
  
The next few days drifted along like honey, smoothly flowing from one day to the next. Christmas approaching in a wave of singing ghosts and suits of armour, decked in lavish finery,  
  
Peeves had concocted an ingenious plan to fill the bonbons with a black substance, which wafted through the air and smelt unpleasant. After the first few bonbons and rounds of hacking coughs, the rest remained pristine, and unopened.  
  
He had also hexed the Christmas baubles, which now exploded on contact with the Christmas tree. Professor Flitwick hung them up with the holly instead, and decked the Christmas tree with snow and berries.  
  
With only five days to Christmas (he knew this because the ghosts were singing 'On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love.'even though that would make the song last until several days after Christmas) he had seen only the barest glimpse of Draco Malfoy. Who, although looking as illustrious as ever, had taken on a gaunt aspect to his countenance.  
  
Late that night, Harry was just adding the final flourish to his two- foot long essay on 'the history of muggle and wizard relationships, during 1500's to the present'.  
  
He was sidetracking from the Gryffindor Common Room to the nearest toilet. When he was finished, he washed his hands in the basin when he saw blood in the basin next to his. A deep ruby hue, and still shiny and wet. Several metres away, on the floor, lay three more drops in succession, bright against the stone paving.  
  
He was chilled by the memory of Voldemort for a moment, and imagination runs wild with fear and adrenaline. He touched his scar instinctively, but gave it a moment or two, and realised he had felt nothing, but could still heart his heart throbbing in his ears. Voldemort was dead, gone. Vanquished, as some saw it.  
  
He opened his eyes, which he had not known were shut, and saw the blood was drying already, becoming forming crusty edges. He followed the blood trail around the corner, where he saw Draco, slumped against the wall, barely on his feet.  
  
"Draco!" he exclaimed, obviously surprised. He was in denial about the concern, though.  
Draco was infront of the Slytherin Common Room Portrait, who had his eyebrow raised, and told Harry "This one cut a bit too deep, this time". Harry ignored it, refusing to accept the idea that other people did this. The blood from Draco's arm was running down the wall and creating a little pool at his feet.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
Harry, under his invisibility cloak, quickly sneaked dome bandages from a shelf in the Hospital Wing. He ran back to Draco as fast as he could, feet pounding on the cold stone floor, the torches on either side of him flickering as he raced past.  
  
Carefully, he bandaged Draco's arm, as Draco watched silently, making no move to help or hinder. The slashes were straight lines, from Draco's shoulders to the back of his wrists.  
  
"Not terribly creative, I know. It's almost impossible to put something legibly on your shoulder, though," He commented placidly. Harry assumed it was the blood loss.  
  
Ten minutes later, Draco extracted his wand from his robes. "Evaporo," a quick incantation and the blood was gone.  
  
"Well Potter. Should I ever feel any gratitude for your gallant attempts to help, I will know exactly who it was who drove me insane enough to say that," and was gone, his fleeting shadow vanishing through the portrait, who gave an arrogant, twisted smile  
  
.~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@ 


	3. Knowledge

Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. If I did own it, the public would have much more to worry about than "supernatural themes".  
  
Author's Note: This fanfiction is going to be slash, and involves slashy stuff between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, so if it's not your style, don't read it, for goodness' sakes! May or may not involve, sadism, masochism, sado-masochism, drugs, sex, cutting, torture, blood, violence, etc. Merry reading!  
  
Vici0usRebL: I will try to make it as interesting as possible, thanks for the review BebopsEdward24: thank you for your slightly eccentric encouragement, thanx for reviewing! SuicideKitten: Thank you for your humorous.yet scary review.  
  
Princess-Anime: Thank you for volunteering as beta tester! Draco does, actually, have a reason to stay, thanks for the review! Sorry I didn't send this one to you to test, I thought I had waited to long to upload it.  
  
Ravyn Nyte: I also know a few people who do cut themselves, and that is where I gain my sick inspiration, although I have more friends with slightly more.perverse addictions, which I will also be adding to the story. Hey, I have nothing against them, being in that category myself, I find it fuel for theoretical musings. Draco may turn suicidal, later, after self-betrayal. Thanks for the review!  
  
Meg: I was actually going to get Draco to commit suicide before, but I changed the plot. I get the straight line cuts as being uncreative from a friend, who does all sorts. It has no effect over me if you are a masochist or not, I only write from personal experience. Thanks for the review!  
  
FaeryDracoQueen: thanks, I appreciate the compliment, thanks for the review!  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Draco ran his eyes in a smooth unbroken line around his Common Room, after he had left Harry through the nefarious-seeming portrait. The furnishings in the dark room bordered on the monochromatic, which just how he liked it. It may not have been the most welcoming or warm of places, but it appealed to his sense of style and refinement, a beauty he appreciated.  
  
The deep shade of green that was the only colour plentiful about the Common Room accentuated the black perfectly.  
  
Noticing a new installment in the room, he cast a look of disdain at the leafy Christmas tree, which sat in the corner. The greens did not match, and it just looked so completely out of form..so..declasse that it was ludicrous.  
  
These instinctive observations continued at the back of his mind, perpetual, even though his conscious mind was in chaos. He was, for the first time, about to give a good, long second thought to what he had previously thought to be mere outgrowths of his sexuality.  
  
So, in all honesty (which was not a thing he worked by very often), he was guilty about thinking of Harry. He had thought perhaps that it may have been a fickle moment - or two, which had caused him to surrender to a little daydream at mealtimes where he was very literally all over Harry.  
  
His excuse was that he was a very sexual person, and Harry appealed to him aesthetically, or so he would delude himself was the only reason, in the most sensual way possible. That and the hormones?  
  
He was only human. Wizard, but human. So sue him.  
  
A while ago, perhaps in second Year? Third? He had just been that side of curious - enough to seek answers. Embarrassingly enough, he did. There was a reason for the saying 'ignorance is bliss'. It was.  
  
He was unruffled by the fact that he was a sado-masochist, (according to what sordid, yet reliable information he had access to), he simply mourned what little innocence had fled with the ignorance.  
  
He closed his eyes, ignoring the wan wisps of blonde hair, which, unnoticed, had drifted across his face, rather irritatingly, but he could live with it.  
  
The only real reason he had let Harry bandage his arm was he didn't want to have Harry's hands away form his skin one moment less than necessary.  
  
He speculated a while on why he always chose to make stinging comments at Harry's expense, if, as he supposed, he had begun to like him.  
  
Was gaining pleasure from seeing someone angry and distressed part of being a sadist? He already knew it gave him thrills to see and put his would-be lovers in pain, be it blood, bites, burns, hurt humiliation. Why not add it to the list.  
  
Of course, there was always the other side of the coin. Desiring that sort of gratification for himself was the tricky part. He usually ended up hurting himself. Thinking about it now, it was less of an addiction and more of a.condition. He had addictions, sure, cutting being on the top of his priority list.  
  
He had never imbibed alcohol, never even been in the proximity of drugs, and stayed well away from tobacco. His father had made it ultimately clear that any of those things would most likely end in trauma and being disowned, or some such.  
  
His mother knew that there were addictions just as dangerous, as addictive as that. Things that it would seem so easy to say 'no' to, that are obviously malign. Things that it would take overpowering mastery of will or dedication to break away from, because of one small reason. You don't want to stop.  
  
He opened his eyes. He wanted to retire to bed then and there, but resigned himself to the fact that he had an eloquent reply to draft to his father. A reply to the letter that had been the motive behind decorating his arm so thoroughly to begin with.  
  
A reply that would state his choice not to submit to his fathers wished as yet, and therefore remain in residence at Hogwarts  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@ 


	4. Looming

Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. The books have 'J.K Rowling' on them, not my name.  
  
Author's Note: This fanfiction is going to be slash, and involves slashy stuff between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, so if it's not your style, don't read it, for goodness' sakes! May or may not involve, sadism, masochism, sado-masochism, drugs, sex, cutting, torture, blood, violence, etc. Merry reading!  
  
FaeryDracoQueen: thank you for your continuing reviews! Sorry, no big SM yet, awww..blood..not yet, the end of the chapter is all right though, after mundane affairs are over with.  
  
Princess-Anime : thank you for your graceful reply, but I am reverting to my old chapter writing style, I only changed it for Draco's pov, to outline his style. You didn't beta back, so I decided to post this chapter after a week and a half, so yeah, later if you have anything to add, please say and I will change the chapter. Thnx 4 da review!  
  
snugglepot and cuddlepie: This story will be as long as I could possibly make it, and the current chapter is as long as I could possibly stretch it too ;) thanks for the review!  
  
BebopsEdward24:lol, thanks for reminding me about Ginny, she'll appear in this chapter, thanks for the review!  
  
A/N the next person who reviews please tell me what rn rn is!!!!!!!!!!  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Harry laughed, amused at Ron's indignation that Ginny had found a new boyfriend. The letter Hedwig had brought was just dripping with outrage, bordering on scandal. This may have been due to the fact that, apparently, Mrs. Weasley approved of the boy. "A nice young gentleman, with manners, which is more than I can say for you, young man!" quoted Ron.  
  
The day had begun smoothly, and, so far, things looked to be only getting better. Hedwig had arrived with mail at breakfast, before nipping Harry on the finger, as if to voice its righteous indignation at being sent back into the wintry day.  
  
He was occupying that nice armchair by the fire again, its gentle radiance illuminating the rather dim room; the weather had turned stormy, and outside thunderous clouds had gathered, blocking off much of the sunlight.  
  
Rain coursed its winding path down the window to the left of Harry. At the moment, Harry was holding a poised quill to write a reply to Ron and Hermione (who also happened to agree with Ginny's new choice of suitor), while balancing a mug of steaming hot chocolate on his knee. He kept it leveled it with his free hand, it being slightly hot to the touch for extended lengths of time.  
  
He decided that perhaps it would not be wise to send Hedwig out with the letters today, and thought Hedwig might need a few days' rest in any case. He put the letters beside his bed, and wondered what he could do. For the moment, he contented himself with going out through the portrait and wandering aimlessly through the corridors.  
  
He had the faint idea that he would give the library a visit, and ended up - lost. He looked around, and realised wherever he had gone, he had absolutely no recollection of it. The only thing could work out about this place was that he was closer to the astronomy tower that the dungeons.  
  
He based this on the fact that he hadn't gone down any stairs and that even his subconscious wouldn't take him to the dungeons. So - he was lost.  
  
He wandered along, hoping he'd find some statue or something that would lead him to a place he knew. The corridor was narrow and frosty, as if forgotten by Professor Flitwick's heating charm. It gave him a shiver up his spine, not completely due to the cold, either.  
  
As he went on, he began to feel an intuitive tug from his senses, something you could never quite place a finger on. A mysterious foreboding crept up, and the corridor was an inky black, even with the torches along the corridor, and led him - to a dead end.  
  
Mystified, Harry turned to walk back along the corridor, but noticed a dusty tome behind him. He was sure that it had not previously been there, or he would definitely have tripped over it. The book was large, with an even layer of dust that had settled over it, making it seem as if it had been there for a century.  
  
Curiosity had killed the cat, and at this rate, it would kill him, too. He picked the book up and flipped through it. It looked rather like a B-grade muggle horror novel, except the photographs moved, to reveal what looked rather like a cross between an imp, and a shark. As he watched, it devoured a man's arm as he screamed.  
  
Harry snapped the book shut, and was willing to bet Hermione had never read one of these. He decided he would show her when she and Ron returned to school after the holidays. He walked backwards and found that as he walked straight ahead, he finally began to recollect passing portraits, and soon ended back in the Gryffindor Common Room  
  
He slept fitfully that night, and tossing and turning in the thrall of many a nightmare.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Christmas crept up like a shadow looming ahead, slowly but surely encompassing the school. There were Christmas cards to be sent, presents to be bought, gift tags to put names on, and greetings to be wished. With only a day left to Christmas, the air tingled with the expected joy and surprise the next day would bestow upon all under its spell.  
  
Harry watched the day drift by, and took his Firebolt out in the clearing weather, an unexpected blue shade in the widespread sky, a few smatterings of wispy cloud, and the bright glare of the sun reflected off of ivory snow.  
  
There was none of the keen anticipation today, nothing to search for, and find. The unending quest for something had been set away for now, leaving only a comfortable solitude. Without hesitation he took of with the merest second, and took to the skies, aware of his open smile. As he began to set down, he glanced at the roof. Nothing. He had doubted that he would find a bloodied Mr. Malfoy on the roof today, but had felt inexorably drawn to check anyway. He had been slightly disappointed of the other boy's absence. Strange, but he never took notice.  
  
He set down for lunch, and was greeted by Hedwig, who gave him two small parcels. The first one he opened began to play jingle bells like a foghorn; just as loud, and seemed to have a small fault; it didn't stop.  
  
Enclosed was a letter saying 'Merry Christmas' from Ron. He winced. It almost made him not want to open Hermione's package. It was a simple card and he sighed, enclosed was only an odd looking box. He read her letter and discovered the box was the newest invention from Fred and George's new shop.  
  
The letter went on in a reprimanding tone to give a list of reasons as to why Harry should stop them from selling it, first and foremost it being highly dangerous.  
  
He sighed and sent Hedwig off with his pre-written Christmas Greetings, before setting himself down in the Gryffindor Common Room to figure out exactly what was so hazardous about the small, brightly coloured box.  
  
That night, after dinner, Harry was feeling satiated and was walking out, as he contemplated going to finish his last piece of homework; a four foot essay on the entrancing abilities of a two-footed mudwump.  
  
He stopped dead as he spied Draco Malfoy in the corner.  
  
"Kept me waiting," said Draco with an illustrious sweep of his hand, "and it was beginning to get cold."  
  
"And why where you waiting?" asked Harry cautiously.  
  
Without the slightest notice or response, Draco slammed Harry to the wall. The wall behind him was cold, and his vision became hazy for a moment. A moment was all Draco needed.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@ 


	5. Rage

Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. No I don't wish I did either.  
  
Author's Note: This fanfiction is going to be slash, and involves slashy stuff between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, so if it's not your style, don't read it, for goodness' sakes! May or may not involve, sadism, masochism, sado-masochism, drugs, sex, cutting, torture, blood, violence, etc. Merry reading!  
  
Pamela: errr..thanks? Thanks for the review!  
  
Princess-Anime; lol, ok, I'm sending this one over asap, hope you like it, thanks for the review!  
  
Pyrefly: Thanks for telling me that! Quick spoiler; it's a kiss!! Thanks for the review!  
  
Mistress Joy; Thank for the thoughtful review!  
  
CydCharisse: thanks for a scary review..  
  
BebopsEdward24:thanks for your nice review! But hey, it was supposed to be a cliffhanger, not a completion!! Lol, thanks!  
  
L-sama: umm..yes..that was a bit paradoxical, but I agree.. thanks for the review!  
  
Nickie: thanks for your flattering review, but I never thought of waiting as torture, lol.  
  
Milly the Smutz0r: MUAHAHAHAHAHA I can end chapter like that because I am sadistical..lol. But I don't think a bit of suspense counts as torture or sadistical behavior, really I don't. I agree with mmmm..blood and mmmm..Draco. Thanks for the review!  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
As Harry's head cleared from the shock of the mind-numbing impact, Draco's hands slid from Harry's shoulders, sweeping past his neck to cup his face, from the end of his jawbone to his ear, and gave him a soft, almost chaste, kiss on his lips.  
  
Harry froze.  
  
His mind's erratic crashing rendered him unable to react in a proper manner, and he felt Draco's canines slide softly across his bottom lip, and his mind was suddenly focused. The teeth were sharp, unnaturally sharp, and he could taste the metallic flavor of his blood.  
  
He pushed Draco away from him with a vigorous heave, sending the other boy far enough away for what comfort there was to be found, after what Harry felt was a horrible violation.  
  
Draco regained balance elegantly; making what would have been embarrassing fall quite graceful. He tipped his head to one side as if curious, gave an infuriatingly overconfident smirk, and raised himself up, to walk briskly toward the corner.  
  
"Merry Christmas," Draco flung over his shoulder, still walking with a derisively casual manner.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry quickly assembled a string of curses, accusations and insults to yell at Draco, but he was already gone, departed around the corner, around an elaborate pillar. Harry followed angrily but when he turned the corner to face a long corridor, Draco was not to be seen.  
  
He turned back, defeated, and noticed where he had been standing only moments before, hung a string of rich mistletoe, and he was speechless.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
As Christmas bolted away in a boiling anger, Harry's fury piled up and up, and he resolved to emit his anger on someone. Namely a teenage blonde from Slytherin that had caused him to fall in a deadly rage to begin with.  
  
Christmas Dinner was a feast of no bounds, there was everything there, from sugar quills to butter beer to a lively Christmas pudding that danced a spirited jig on the table.  
  
A chorus of ghosts drifted by every now and then, and the leafy bearings of the Christmas tree was truly enchanting. Everything was warm and sprightly, and the Christmas cheer was one of such liberal proportions that even Harry, in his mire of seething vehemence couldn't help a smile or two.  
  
Professor Dumbledore gave a heartwarming speech, noting not to 'brood in the dungeons brewing veritaserum' with a twinkle in his eye. He never glanced at Professor Snape when he said that, but everybody knew of whom he had been alluding to.  
  
The Christmas Dinner ended quite a while later, as dinners have an obligation to do, and Harry briskly followed Draco the moment he stepped out the door to give him a good yell.  
  
He slammed the door behind him and narrowed his eyes at the retreating shadow of Draco, who was meandering along the hall in front of him.  
  
"Draco." He said, all too quietly. The lull before the storm.  
  
The other boy turned with a slow arrogance, and regarded him for a steady moment before replying.  
  
"Has the famous Potter deemed it fit to address me so casually then? Perhaps because he believes he saved me from a little blood loss?" he asked with an eyebrow raised in an intoxicating gesture of egotism. Harry decided to ignore this and plowed on.  
  
"What was that, yesterday???" he yelled, at the top of his lungs, finally releasing all that pent-up anger, frustration, and revulsion.  
  
"What exactly was what?" Draco threw back coolly, eyebrow still arched infuriatingly.  
  
"You - you kissed me! You put your lips on mine and did that. Were you out of your mind???"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"How can you deny it? Right there, yesterday, under that string of mistletoe! After dinner!" He pointed to the mistletoe that was hung as decoratively as ever, the way it was yesterday.  
  
"After dinner? I didn't do that. I wouldn't do that it must have been a Polyjuice potion or something. I wouldn't."  
  
"Fine then. Prove it. Where were you last night after dinner, then? And don't expect me to think one of the first years did - that."  
  
"Last night? I was - after dinner, right? I was," Draco began to loose his cool and his brow furrowed slightly and his eyes glazed over as he tried to concentrate. He shook his head violently after a moment, as Harry examined his confused countenance with an equal confusion and suspicion of his own.  
  
Draco really didn't seem to know what he had been doing after dinner that night. Harry felt a chill. Perhaps someone had put a charm on him and had actually pretended to be Draco? The side of him that hated Draco kicked in and asked what if Draco did do it, and put a memory charm on himself to pretend he didn't? Why in the world would either of those predicaments actually occur anyway to begin with?  
  
Draco shook his head wildly, as if to clear a ghost from his head, and answered vehemently, "It doesn't matter what I was doing, it is none of your business. I would never do something so utterly repulsive. And if you have no more wild accusations, I will escort myself away."  
  
He did just that.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Harry decided to drop the matter. After a few days, Draco had not appeared. It was as if the merest memory of him had been erased by the maze of the school. Every night was dark and stormy, the moon always shadowed by voluminous, gloomy clouds that brooded away their time with episodes of thunderstorms.  
  
Harry took to writing lengthy letters to his friends and speaking to Hedwig, or simply staring out at the cascades of rain over the frosted-over windows. The days where dark and sullen, and an endless misery seemed to settle down upon the school.  
  
The first years, usually full of bright chatter, faded away to mere ghosts of their former selves, taking to murmuring away in the corners with depressed expressions, or the muggle-borns sketching pictures of the weather.  
  
Of Draco Malfoy, there was naught to be seen.  
  
Days passed, and the weather improved, if only slightly, to a light drizzle and occasional sun, overcast only by drab clouds that drifted along the sky in a wayward manner.  
  
For the first time in many days, Draco was at breakfast, and Harry surveyed him for a few moments as he stepped inside the room, and realised that there was definitely a change.  
  
His hair. It did not look as if it had been washed, or styled, in fact, the opposite could be said. It was soft and looked like it must look naturally, no sleek hair plastered to his head, just long, fine, downy hair that steeped past his pallid neck to caress his shoulders.  
  
As he sat down, he wondered how Draco managed to miss his meals. He wondered if he merely didn't eat, or something similar, and then cast away that foolish notion. Perhaps he stole food from the all-too-willing house- elves.  
  
Seated, Harry began to chew his food slowly, with thoughtful deliberation, and he glanced at Draco for a while. He noticed the other boy was looking at him, and was curious enough to forget himself, until he caught himself staring.  
  
Draco had seemed to come to a similar conclusion and lowered his head, blushing slightly, staring hard at his dish, as did Harry, but not before he saw Draco do it, and begin to formulate some wild conclusions with his now disordered mind, in which Draco was inextricably woven.  
  
He hastily completed his meal, and hurried through the silent corridors, mind preoccupied. He knew that he had denied himself the only reasonable answer to his musings, as that single answer was completely inane within itself.  
  
Were Peeves to come and drop a dung bomb, Harry would not have noticed. His preoccupation extended right until the point where he did not notice the pair in front of him until they where right there - in front of him. They had obviously not noticed either, being likewise occupied with other, more pressing matters.  
  
Harry stopped less then a metre short of them, and his head flew upwards to survey the pair, mouths gliding, sliding, and bodies clinging as if for salvation in the other. Robes in a tangled disarray, and hair falling gently on the other's face.  
  
Her arms crept around his neck, and his mouth fastened itself about her neck with a mixture of licking, sucking, and biting, none of which looked pleasant to Harry, the onlooker, in the least.  
  
She moaned as he went about his business, eyes closed as he traced intricate patterns in her hair, and later again when he fastened his mouth on her smallest finger, and began to suck gently on it, teeth lightly grazing the sides.  
  
Harry thought that it must obviously feel better than it looked, when he wondered why in hell he was watching a live performance of something that seemed to be verging on and leading to pornography.  
  
The first year girl made an insistent, whining noise, and Harry saw that the boy had stopped, and was watching Harry intently, a predatory gaze. Harry's eyes widened, and he fled. Fled from what he had seen, and a feeling of growing illness in his stomach that portended a long, sick night.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Draco Malfoy extracted himself from the tight embrace of the first year, and tilted his head, uncomprehendingly. Fixing his clothing lightly, and gathering her discarded raiment from the floor, he swiftly handed them too her as she stood, puzzled at his sudden change. A dawning awareness greeted her as he walked off, in the direction that Harry Potter had left, and hatred began to seep into her mind, like a slow poison.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Harry emptied the contents of his last meal into the basin and splashed icy cold water on his face, before surveying his ashen reflection. He watched as the first stirrings of anger rose yet again in his countenance, and was amazed that he had not burst a vein.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
The first year, slumped against the wall, now with full comprehension, spat on the floor and vowed bittersweet revenge.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Draco walked into the door of the toilets, and watched as Harry caught a glimpse of him and turned around. A voice laughed, and it was his own. Not a particularly pleasant one, to be sure, either. Harry spun around, full-blown hostility on his face, to be read so easily, as a book would be. How quaint. Still not ready to face the music?  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
A/N: what do you think? Please, somebody give ideas on how to slowly get them together!!! 


	6. Plots

Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. When she begins to incorporate sadism, masochism, cutting, etc, I may be able to call it plagiarism, but for now, I don't think she wants to worry our parents.  
  
Author's Note: This fanfiction is going to be slash, and involves slashy stuff between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, so if it's not your style, don't read it, for goodness' sakes! May or may not involve, sadism, masochism, sado-masochism, drugs, sex, cutting, torture, blood, violence, etc.  
  
Princess-anime: your comments have been invaluable, and I am very grateful. I have to apologise for my last chapter though, I had lost the plot a bit, and forgotten I had already established a romantic relationship between the two. I promise this will be a much better chapter.  
  
Miss. Charlet: How the heck old do you think I am??? I'm just angry from being flamed, 'rounded critique' being injurious the pride. Ah well, you gain some you lose some, still young enough for icky cliché to take a place in my heart, I suggest you read stuff by 'snaKo'. ~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Draco waited for Harry. Nothing more. All the while he would indulge himself in the sweet visitations with Harry, where he would find sexual gratification in the hands of Harry Potter, his would-be nemesis, except for the small fact that fate had chosen to play with his heart.  
  
Or him, really. He doubted that this dilemma could have too much to do with his heart, at least not yet. He hardly knew Harry, in truth. But then again, do your enemies not see what your friends would remain obligingly oblivious to?  
  
Questions, many questions, revolving around in a vortex of thoughts, flowing through the mind. His sense of humor prepared itself for a cynical remark on his taste for mental release from such things embodied in physical mutilation, for he had yet to find a sense of irony, an idea that had always appeared vague to him.  
  
All that there was to seek was here, standing before him. He could see the anger that resided behind the shocked mask, lying dormant for now, at least. It was dear to him that Harry could so easily be read, from cover to cover. Or perhaps not. He did not like to be completely opinionated of someone at any one time. Too many times was he proven wrong. Behavioural adaptation, he guessed carelessly.  
  
All that mattered was that this time, he would show Harry what he meant. He could hear a voice in the back of his mind, stifled by his own awareness, and disregarded it.  
  
He advanced on Harry, feeling an urgent necessity to be in close proximity with the other boy.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
He was walking - no, stalking closer, and Harry had a sudden flashback to the night under the mistletoe and his eyes widened with realisation and acknowledgement to what was happening - and panic began to overtake his mind.  
  
Funny.  
  
Voldemort had never caused him so much anguish, fear - alright, Draco was rivaled in hatred and pain- but not this uncertainty, and never this much confusion. He was at odds with himself in many more ways than one. And what he wanted to do led to two different paths, and it hurt him inside, like being twisted in an unnatural manner.  
  
He closed his eyes and painstakingly settled his mind, knowing that all he had to do was admit one thing. He was attracted to Draco.  
  
Already Draco was ahead of his thoughts, and they were staring straight into each other's eyes.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
His hair was reminiscent of the autumn, and yet held all of the promise of spring. Draco had noticed when Harry had seemed to come to a conclusion within himself, and, thanking fate for the slim tendril of a chance that he had been handed, stepped close to Harry.  
  
Perhaps quirks of fate tend to enjoy ruining perfect moments, for his tact abandoned him at the crucial moment.  
  
"She meant nothing, you know."  
  
In the mere moments it took for Draco to mentally throw himself off into an abyss for his tactless comment, he saw Harry grimace and walk out the door. So simple. So stupid. He watched the shards of his hope lay abandoned at his feet and drew his precious, fine knife from a fold in his robes, and quickly cast a sanitizing spell upon it.  
  
He knew a dozen spells which could give him similar scars, the most crazed one being to summon a creature with claws, Hippogriff being the first in mind, but you never can appreciate and despise the touch of a knife being drawn through your flesh as much until you have felt it. Simply so.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@  
  
Draco lay on his bed, staring at the dark canopy that was draped over the four-poster bed. He had welcomed the sound of raindrops beating against the window that night, and wished that it would pour and pour, such that the building would implode under the steady rain. But he had no such luck, and the worse for it.  
  
He had been in bed since he had finished bloodying his shirt, which was now being laundered. You would really think that such things as cleaning up after yourself before putting clean clothes on would be remembered or common sense to begin with, but, alas, his mind had been elsewhere. Idiotic of him, really, he thought to himself.  
  
He was thinking of..well, obviously, the Boy-Who-Lived. He wanted Harry, for normal, sexual purposes. He would lie to himself again and again, saying that that was the only reason, as well. He had stayed up for three hours, give or take a little, thinking of wild circumstances in which Harry would be his.  
  
Following this train of thought, his own. His very own. To keep. To keep..to keep..to keep..To do with whatever he wanted...yes, that would be nice, perfectly nice.  
  
His eyes flew open, literally bounced out of his bed, and felt a nefarious smile creep over his face as a truly wicked, manipulative idea began to form in his mind.  
  
His eyes glittered with the prospect of Harry..as his slave. Truly Machiavellian, his scheme, truly, he thought to himself, before walking off to collect a few favors. It was always nice to have people who owed you; especially people of some import owing you favors, and ones with inconspicuously little import obligated to do undesirable deeds for you.  
  
~~~~~~'~~, ~~~@ 


End file.
